*Book One of The Accursed Chronicles*
August was a man from a normal world, living a mundane life until one night everything changed, and he was sent spiraling into a world stuck forever in winter, full of magic, creatures, and a curse that has grip...
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Finding August had been easy when I went into my room and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, a frown on his lips as he fiddled with something in his hands. As I neared him, I recognized what he held, it was the patches that he had tried to give to me and Leuthar, the ones bearing The Remnant's symbol. He had gone backwards with his progress since I had been laid up in bed and had turned to clinging onto pointless things.
He was better than this, and if Leuthar's words had been true, about him having teleported us here, then he was capable of more than he was letting on. He doubted himself too much.
"I don't understand why you are more concerned with the shit in Darrose than your own health," he muttered without lifting his gaze as I moved across to the chair beside the bed. He thumbed the patches in his grasp before he sighed and glanced up to me. "Aren't you grateful that you are alive?"
I nodded, knowing that I was. "But this isn't about that, is it?"
His gaze fell from mine as he huffed then stashed away the patches in his pocket. He stood and paced half of the room before turning back to me.
"Why do you keep fighting for a lost cause? Nobody wants to be against the Vale, everybody wants to be for it," he scoffed, with a pout forming on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why would anyone want to be cursed with what we have?"
"I can't answer that, but I do know that not everybody wants the Vale's domination over Laelmos. It only seems that way because you've seen the greed for it in Krak among the nobles," I replied plainly, keeping my argument levelheaded for him. He was already teetering on the edge and the last thing I needed to do was shove him over it, even if his attitude bothered me. "Most who live near the walls bordering Wyneir have no desire for the Vale. Those are the people we fight for and that is what makes this not a lost nor dying cause."
"Then why don't they voice their opinions?" he asked, making me raise an eyebrow. He knew the answer to that. He sighed in frustration. "Right because they'll be ignored. I still don't see why they can't collectively join together and go against this... this stupid fucking wave of people wanting the Vale. You'd think they'd learn from the past."
I hummed, intrigued by his argument. I could see where he was coming from, but it was a rather human-like view. "Like you, sometimes it is better to let them learn through experience. They will see soon enough that the Vale is not the answer to their problems nor the solution to endless power."
The Vale was nothing more than a cursed left behind by demons of old, in hopes to be rediscovered and let loose again to restore the power of demons. I doubted true demons would ever come back, but with Isolde's help, the second worst thing could happen. Countless people could become valemen, leaving Laelmos a home to nothing but frozen, dead people.
"Well, I think I've had enough experiences to last me a lifetime," he grumbled as he trudged over to the bed and plopped down onto it. He looked over to me, lost and tired and not the upbeat man I had seen before the chaos in Darrose. "I see now why you wanted to keep me from everything, but I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. I almost don't want anything to do with Laelmos anymore."
